The Year of the Troll
by glorious abyss
Summary: A chance encounter on a dating app leads Norway into the world of the most neurotic female nation he knows. With romance comes a price, however, as someone from his past is all but happy for his new relationship. Norway/Belarus/Denmark love triangle. Rated M for references to sex and violence.
1. Chapter 1

He lingered behind in the conference room once someone called for the world meeting to end. Pretending to look over his empty book of notes, Norway hesitated. It had been bothering him since the meeting was called for a break, where he first noticed the notification flash on his phone. Her neighboring table members had abandoned her as soon as they were allowed to leave, making her the only individual still seated. Belarus' eyes were glued to her own phone. Losing hope that she would notice him as the other soul left in the room, the man took a deep breath, exhaled, and approached her.

"Hello, Natalya."

Her brows twitched before she changed her view to his features. Blinking, she returned to her uninterested expression that he recognized all too well. Norway watched her eyes roll before she responded.

"Am I giving you permission to talk to me?"

"Hmm? No-"

"Why did you call me that anyways?" Belarus began to play with her phone, tapping away at the streaked screen. He thought he heard her mumble the word _weirdo,_ but it could have just been his nerves. The Norwegian wasn't one for being interrupted, either, but since she was a stranger to him, he let it slide.

"Don't act like you don't know, _Natalya_." With a smirk, he retrieved his own phone from his back pocket and unlocked it. The sharp colors of a dating app popped up on his screen, and once at the designated page, he flashed the conversations section to the woman in front of him.

Before she could react to hearing her chosen name again, she was greeted by a picture of herself. She puckered her lips in thought before saying, "Well, that _looks_ like me."

" _Is_ it you?"

Belarus pushed her chair backwards and stretched her arms. "Of course it is, dumbass! Do you feel special or something?"

Norway almost choked on his gulping. He didn't want to press further with the woman in front of him, but he reminded himself that he needed to remain calm. This was his only chance to talk to a girl from a dating app, in person, even if it was the woman who was known for stalking her siblings and having the mouth of a sailor.

"Are you free after this?"

"I don't know, am I?"

"Well you're the one who matched with me, and you're currently debating it instead of doing anything, so I'd say you are."

Belarus opened her mouth, then closed it again.

He pushed forward. "I passed a coffee shop on my way here. It's just down the block."

"Good for you."

Norway hitched his messenger bag over his shoulder. "My empty hotel room is around there too, if you're interested."

"I'm kidding," he added once she rose to her feet with a face coated with disgust. He calmly gave her the directions to the café while balancing the feeling of fear washing over him. _Oh God, why did I say that? Who does that?_

"Will I see you there?"

Belarus just squinted at him.

* * *

Norway settled on his standard American order; a cup of black coffee and a slice of carrot cake. He shifted in his metal chair, unsure of whether his chill came from the cool May air, which made him grab a table outside of the shop, or his anticipation or the other nation to arrive. As the minutes passed by he began to regret even speaking to her. Asking her out was a spur of the moment opportunity, and he had let himself get carried away. He had to admit that he could get too cocky for his own good.

It wasn't that he was _afraid_ of her necessarily; he was curious. The nations he worked with never talked about their dating lives due to the nature of their positions, but it didn't mean they didn't have them. Norway only downloaded a dating app to scope out the communities he traveled to. New York City, where the meeting took place this time around, bombarded him with college students. Admittedly he could find other countries if he turned his distance down, but there was something shameful about knowing that his peers were as lonely as he was. Out of everyone he knew however, he didn't expect to find Belarus utilizing such an application, and he especially couldn't believe that they swiped on each other.

The woman had taken the seat across from him while he roamed through his thoughts. She didn't speak until he did, instead opting to rest her elbows on the table and stare at him.

"Hello," he uttered, half surprised from her sudden appearance.

"Hello, Lukas."

Norway wanted to pretend her response was flirty. There was a touch of ice in the last syllable that ran through his body. It was quickly replaced by a flushing in his chest from the realization that she used his human name. He disguised his shock with a shy smile.

"I'm glad to see you took me up on my offer." The man replicated her position, intertwining his fingers at his chin.

"I had nothing better to do."

 _Finally, some common ground._

"I already ordered, but I'm sure the waitress will come by soon."

He wasn't sure if Belarus had heard him. She continued to stare, as if she was intensely focused on him. The attention made him uncomfortable, to say the least. Frantically, he searched his mind for something to talk about. His inexperience with dating was starting to show, but luckily the other nation interrupted his thoughts with a topic of her own.

"Who are you right now?"

"I-what?"

"Are you Lukas, the university student on a business trip, or are you Norway?" she asked. Norway thought he saw the hint of a smirk, but he couldn't be sure. He had forgotten the details on his profile, where he listed himself as a twenty-one year old student.

"Depends, are you Natalya, the gymnast who is traveling the country, or are you Belarus?"

Belarus removed her hands from her chin and placed them on her lap. "I'm whoever you want me to be."

At that moment, the waitress came by the table. She gingerly placed the slice of cake and coffee in front of the man, giving him a grin when she was finished. Then she turned to Belarus, only for her expression to become serious when they met eyes. The nation ordered a coffee for herself, and the both watched as the waitress nodded and retreated back into the restaurant.

 _That's right, shouldn't I be intimidated by her?_ Norway thought as he took a sip of his beverage.

"I'd ask if you're an actual gymnast, but the picture you had up proved it," he said after taking another sip. He mentally went over the details of one of her pictures, where she was posed in a leotard, a leg in the air above her head.

"Thank God." Belarus picked at something under her untrimmed nails. "A lot of guys on that app say gross things to me."

Norway remained silent. He took a moment to examine the woman in front of him. Her hair was soft and blonde. He had the sudden urge to run his fingers through it, but he knew the consequences. He traced the outline of her heart-shaped face, noticing her powdery makeup. Her method of applying it was as outdated as her dress, which was her usual purple outfit.

He didn't need to question why he swiped on her profile while well aware of who she was. She held a unique kind of beauty, it was undeniable. He couldn't pretend to not notice it. When he made that fatal decision to 'like' her, he thought he could hide behind the belief that she would never do the same. Now that his anonymity was exposed, he felt trapped in his skin. There was a woman in front of him; she was made of fire and hostility, and he could feel himself being consumed.

But, why feel this way? The one who was known for her violence wasn't acting that way towards him. Norway half prepared himself to respond if she tried to attack him, he had determined that on his way to the café. He was crazy for asking her on a date, but her unusually cool persona in that moment was even crazier.

"I didn't think you were the kind of guy to be on dating apps."

The words startled him out of his ogling. "I-uh-"

"Estonia has mentioned you a few times. That freak is obsessed with you nerds. Who knew geeks could _get it_ -"

"-I didn't think I'd see you on it, either," Norway replied, swallowing a bite from his sweet cake. It wasn't the only thing he needed to digest. He would never do anything risky with a stranger, especially with his status of being a country. It didn't cross his mind that other nations wouldn't hesitate on hooking up with others. He had to know why the woman who loved her brother was on a dating app.

Belarus quickly lifted a brow and smirked. "I have needs. My brother is fine with it, he even encouraged me to get it!"

Her eyes glistened. She crossed her arms with a sort of satisfaction. The waitress had returned with another cup of coffee, silently placing it in front of the woman. The conversation switch must have put her in a better mood (or given her a mood, Norway noted) because she even thanked the server before she turned to hurry away.

So they talked about brothers. They doted on their siblings until their cups were emptied and Norway's dish was cleared. Whenever Norway felt a competition itching to break out, he kicked his pride down a level and complimented the Russian man. He made sure to leave their waitress a generous tip when they finally left the café. Belarus had accepted his offer to be walked back to her hotel, but upon arrival to her destination, she pulled him into an alleyway. Before he could comprehend what was happening, he was met with a knife at his throat.

"I had fun today," Belarus admitted, her expression stoic and unchanging.

Norway had no reason to be afraid of her, nor his unlikely death. The blade didn't have much pressure on it; who knew she could bluff her threats?

"Would you like to do this again?" he asked, making sure he didn't accidentally move and give her a reason to push her weapon forward.

"I'll think about it."

She retreated the knife, only to project it back onto his Adam's apple. "But don't you _dare_ tell _anyone_ about today, you dick muffin!"

The Norwegian cursed himself for his taste in women.

* * *

 _A/N: Hey all! I've decided to try something new with my writing. I'm busy irl and I recently revisited the (dying) fandom to see what I've missed the past few years, only to accidentally start writing fanfiction again. My goal is to be able to complete this fic, even if it takes years lmao. We've got this!_

 _Denmark will be appearing in the next chapter, I promise._


	2. Chapter 2

"Open the door, you coward!"

A week had passed since Norway's date with Belarus. He had texted her after to tell her that he enjoyed their time together, though he gave up on waiting for a response once the three day mark of her silence passed. He took it as her _thinking about it_ , like she had mentioned she'd do, but the last thing he wanted to throw on himself was the false belief that they would see each other again. If he were honest with himself, he would admit that she left an impression in his mind. The man couldn't begin cooking in his kitchen without running his fingers over his knives, reminding himself of how his date had pushed one against him. Also to his surprise was that it made his chest flutter.

It was on one of those afternoons while he was washing dishes when a forceful banging on his front door had awoken him from his daydreams. He recognized the voice of the boisterous Denmark, a man so loud that he could be heard from the other end of the house. Being careful not to cut himself, Norway placed a dry knife back in its designated drawer and rushed to meet him.

"Better to be a coward than an idiot who shouts," was his response upon being greeted by the other nation.

Denmark invited himself inside the sunlit house. He kicked his boots off and plopped himself into the closest armchair he could find in the living room.

Norway shut and locked the door before meeting the Dane in the chair beside his. "A 'good afternoon' would be nice."

"Good afternoon, Lukas."

The man froze in place. Denmark winked at him. He had forgotten about his last-minute decision to find men on the dating app. If he was embarrassed to match with Belarus, then he was beyond shameful to know his neighbor had spotted him, too. He couldn't say he was surprised, however; he didn't necessarily care about who his friends were romantically interested in. If this was Denmark's way of coming out then so be it.

"I hit the 'love' button and you didn't even reply to it! I thought we were buddies!"

Norway recalled seeing the ' _Somebody loves you!'_ notification pop onto his screen. He also recalled denying the swipe. "You have my phone number."

"It hurt, Nor."

He sighed. The Norwegian was too used to the other's need for dramatics. "Is that really why you're here?"

"Actually, I want to know what you've been up to lately! You too busy for me or something?"

 _Does puppy need kibble?_ Denmark reminded him of a small, needy dog. They couldn't be away from each other for too long without the other practically breaking into his house to check up on him. Norway had to admit he was no longer phased by it, and instead grew to find it endearing. If anything, his friend's constant need for his attention relieved him from his own lonesome thoughts.

"I haven't done much." He ran a hand through his hair, "I _did_ go on a date, though."

"Get out, good for you!" The Dane rose to his feet and reached to pat Norway's shoulder. "Was she cute?"

"You're assuming my date was a woman?"

"Oh, uh..." The taller man rubbed the back of his head and looked away, blushing. "Sorry, was he-"

"-Yes, she was cute. Very pretty, actually." Norway watched his friend's face, literate in the way he scrunched it while he thought. After a moment he gave the Norwegian a flashy smile and pulled him up to his feet.

"What's she like?"

"Hmm." Norway rubbed his chin, rummaging through his brain to find the best way to explain Belarus without the other catching on. He found that it took him too long to describe her. She was infamous for her personality, that was for sure, but he found that he _couldn't_ think of anything else to say. Nothing endearing came to mind, and he couldn't accurately define her without Denmark catching on. The urge to find a buzzword became his next objective; that was, when they finally had the chance to talk again.

"She's unique. That's all you need to know."

"Are you seeing her again?"

Norway rubbed his chin. "I don't know. Last time I talked to her was a week ago." He showed a coy smile. "It would be nice to though, I think."

"Ah, sorry about that."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you know? If they don't text back after three days, they're not interested."

Something sunk in Norway's stomach. It had been decades since he entered the dating scene; did romance really change _that much_ in the twenty-first century? To be fair, he had heard that the youth were as lustful as they were when he was younger.

"Says who?" he asked, attempting to keep his surprise at a minimum.

"Uh..." Denmark scratched the back of his head. "I mean, with the internet and all, it's really not that hard to find people. It's kind of an unspoken rule."

The Norwegian found himself exhaling a breath. How long had he been holding it? "I see."

"Yeah, wasn't it easier back in the day? All you had to do was throw a girl on your ship and promise that her family wouldn't be harmed."

 _Back in the day_. The past seemed to be the only thing Denmark could talk about. He was better at controlling it when sober, but once he had a few drinks in him, he could talk the ear off of anyone who would listen. Norway was usually the unwilling participant in his flashbacks. His memories would go from tame to violent, illustrating the constant gears grinding in his mind.

The man closed his eyes and ran his fingers over a nearby bookcase. He was remembering something, Norway was sure of it. The host knew he had to change the subject before his own traumas were forced to reappear.

"How is the app working out for you?"

Denmark's blue eyes became visible. His threat of a somber mood was replaced with the jovial, energetic one his friend was used to. He fumbled in his back pocket and yanked his phone out, tapping away until the screen for the dating app appeared. The hand that was scanning through Norway's collection of books was now on his shoulder, dragging him into Denmark's personal space.

"Check it out! I've matched with so many girls! I know I've told you before, but you have some really cute ladies!" The Dane scrolled through his list of matches; Norway recognized some of them as his citizens. He pinched the other's ear, eliciting an, " _Ouch_!" from the man.

"I ran into some other countries on here, too." As he scrolled, the Norwegian recognized the cheeky expression Belgium had in her profile picture in the list. He asked about it, only for the Dane to reply with, "See, _she_ thought the 'love' button was funny!"

Norway gingerly held his friend's arm and pulled it off of him. He had dishes that needed to be washed. When he prepared himself to ask when he was leaving, Denmark boldly interjected.

"You know what's weird? I saw Russia's sister on here a few weeks ago. The younger one, not the one with the boobs." The other man covered his ear, which was unfortunate for Norway's grabbing fingers.

"She looks nicer in pictures. I feel bad for the sucker who matches with her." Denmark shoved his phone back into his pocket. Norway only nodded.

"Maybe she's looking for Russia on it," Denmark joked, elbowing him in the side. He smirked, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. "Nor, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, why?"

"You looked a little out of it. You need to sit down or something?"

Norway's stomach was tied in a knot. A sour taste reached his tongue as he considered the fact that maybe, just maybe, Denmark was right about something for once. Maybe Belarus _was_ purposely ignoring his text. He wasn't going to let himself get discouraged, however. He himself still held an active account on the site, despite only opening it a total of two times since their date. It may have been the modern era, but he still knew how to have conversations outside of a screen. The last shred of his confidence was held in the belief that she did, too.

"I'm good, just a little overworked." It was true; Norway had barely finished reviewing paperwork from his boss when he realized that his house had become a monstrous mess. Luckily he left the dirty dishes for his final task. The host placed himself back into his seat.

"You know you can always call me if you need help!" Denmark squatted down, meeting the other's knees. He looked up and met Norway's eyes. "Is there anything you need now?"

"You _can_ help me wash dishes," Norway told him, watching as the man shot back up to his height. He knew of the other's pathetic fear of cleaning.

The Norwegian watched as the Dane mindlessly glanced over at the wall clock adjacent to them. "I have to get going! You reminded me, I need to get some of my own work done too!"

Denmark hurriedly stomped his feet into his boots. He didn't bother to untie them first, halting his task with enough time for Norway to jump to his feet and meet him. Something had been bothering him since the other barged through the door, and he knew he wouldn't feel right until he was given an answer.

"Wait."

"I'm not afraid of cleaning!"

"It wasn't about that." Norway's hand found the doorknob before Denmark could grab it. He held eye contact with him, observing how the other's eyes glistened from the light coming in through a nearby window. "You said you found me on the app."

"Yeah, what about it?"

"You were looking for men?"

The Dane stumbled on his words. Silently, he stuttered, "I was curious. I'm not gay, if that's what you're wondering!"

Norway nodded and awkwardly averted his eyes.

"What were _you_ doing searching for men?" His guest bent down to fix his tangled shoelaces.

The man's cheeks flushed. He bit the inside of his cheek, replying with, "I just wanted to know what girls look for, I guess."

It wasn't an exact lie. Immortality gave him the ability to watch the societal changes that occurred, one of which being fashion and taste. He couldn't say that either sex interested him with their vast aesthetics. Besides, being hundreds of years old made it difficult for him to connect with humans; Norway appeared to be in his early twenties, but it was impossible for him to act like it with his experiences.

Once the Dane redressed his feet, he stood to meet his friend's height. "Cool! I'm just looking for some fun!"

Norway stomped on the other's toes. Denmark gave him a mischievous smile; his fluffy socks were no match for Denmark's steel-toed boots.

The host continued on. "Just making sure, we're both straight guys looking for other guys on a dating app?"

"Yeah, I guess we are." Denmark chuckled and shook his head, his gelled hair staying in place with each movement.

"Okay." Norway finally turned the doorknob and let him out. They exchanged goodbyes and parted ways with a record-breaking calmness for the duo.

After shutting and locking the front door, Norway stretched, releasing a groan as he did. He sighed and made his way back to the kitchen to fulfill his self-made promise of finishing his chores. To his surprise, he found his cellphone on a counter, above the utensil drawer. Did he really leave it next to a sink full of water? The notification light flashed, and upon closer inspection, he found a message from nonother than the woman he was waiting to hear from.

 _14:12pm, Next meeting is at Austria's house. Be there or I'll break your dick off._


	3. Chapter 3

They both lingered behind in the conference room. This time, it was intentional.

The meeting ran later than expected; there wasn't a single agreeable solution for regulating diseases between country borders. Norway could care less about procedures for a pandemic. He'd be surprised if the others ran to him during an outbreak, as surprised as he was when he caught Belarus staring at him from her place down the table.

Someone had spoken, America maybe? Norway wasn't sure. When he turned to face the voice, he was met with the woman's gaze targeting him. Her body was aligned with the table, but her head was crooked. He was tempted to look behind him in hopes that he wasn't the target of her attention; no one around them seemed to notice. Was he imagining it? It didn't matter. By the time the speaker sat down, her brother took their position at the podium, and the woman's focus shifted to the other end of conference room.

As the nations filed through the double doors and into the hallway, he stayed in his seat and flipped through his empty notebook. Belarus stood a few feet away, standing on her toes to whisper something in her brother's ear. She performed a shooing motion, and the Russian joined the group of their peers. Norway couldn't help but wonder what the relationship between the two was truly like. He knew the rumors of her forced marriage proposals to her brother. It hadn't bothered him since he wasn't involved in the lives of the Eastern Europeans, though he caught himself imagining his own brother doing the same to him.

 _No_ , his internal monologue stated. _Ice doesn't even like it when we see him off. He'd never force diplomacy on me like that._

Suddenly, he was jealous. The man almost shook himself out of his daydreaming before remembering he was in public. He blamed his irrational thinking on hunger, and with a signaling movement of the eyes, he and his date were walking through the doors and into an elevator.

"I made a reservation for a restaurant nearby." He rolled his sleeve to check the time on his watch. "That meeting ran a little late, though..." he mumbled.

He took a moment to scan her body with his eyes. The woman donned a navy blue skirt-suit and beige heels. Norway was neither tall nor short, and the averageness of his height became apparent when he noticed she stood at his nose. He fidgeted with his blazer, darting his eyes forward when she stepped forward and proceeded out of the open elevator door.

"You look nice."

"I'm going to cut your eyes out and wear them as earrings."

 _We're off to a great start_ , the man thought, grabbing the door handle to the building. He pulled it open, allowing her to walk ahead of him. He half-hoped she would sprint away, but instead she patiently waited for him to join her.

Norway couldn't recall leaving a meeting so late in the day. The sun painted a warm collection of hues, signaling the night's arrival. If he were alone, he would stop and admire the light painting the buildings around him. With his temperamental date however, he could only follow his plans.

"What have you been up to?"

She picked at something under her fingernail. "Nothing important."

He thought back to their first date. _She was moody then, wasn't she? But it got better. What did I do again?_

They crossed the street. Her light hair contrasted with the budding tan painting her face. _That's right_ , he realized, _that part of the world is full of_ _farmers_.

"I thought I scared you off when you didn't reply."

"I had things to do."

He mumbled an, "understandable". A blush crept upon his cheeks. He felt silly, childish almost for letting his impatience be known. Isn't that the kind of thing he'd mock Denmark for? It didn't matter at the time. In the nerves that jittered him, he forgot the directions to the restaurant where he had made the reservations. His task at hand had to be finding his way and not appearing foolish in front of the woman.

"How is your family?"

He could swear he witnessed Belarus become taller. Back straight, she kept her gaze forward. "Good. Why do you ask?"

Why _did_ he ask? "Just wondering," he coughed.

"I visited my sister for a few days. She has a nice kitchen."

They strolled through the city, in complete silence, for fifteen minutes. A nervous sweat soaked his shirt. Norway shrugged his blazer off his shoulders and folded it over his forearm. As he did this, he noticed Belarus had stopped with him while he adjusted himself. Her eyes were locked on something in the distance. Squinting, a food vendor could be seen handling a customer. His stomach rippled.

"I think a good beginning point for trusting another person is honesty."

"You don't know where the restaurant is, do you?"

A sigh escaped the man. "Nope."

She lifted her arm and pointed towards the direction of the vendor. "That guy across the street is selling ice cream."

* * *

So they settled on ice cream for dinner. The sky's concerto of colors was replaced by a blanket of stars hanging over them. Crickets chirped as they settled into their meal, the two seated on a park bench.

"What was the name of the place we were going to go to?"

He revealed the name, her brows furrowing.

"Why didn't you just look up the directions? We're in the twenty-first century."

The Norwegian heard her mumble something, but he tuned out the potential insult. "I thought it would be rude to pull out my phone."

She shrugged and spooned a bite into her mouth. "It sounds fancy."

"I did my research to find the best I could for us."

He regretted the sentence as soon as he said it. He held his breath, observing Belarus's sudden facial expression. From his angle, she appeared to be giving the grass at her feet a wide-eyed simper. A moment of silence passed before she met him once more and spoke.

"Why do you have a cross in your hair?"

An exhale. "Why don't you?"

The woman puffed her cheeks.

Norway unclipped the cross from his soft bangs. He gingerly pinched it between his fingertips.

"I use it to talk to trolls."

"Weird. I just go online to do that."

Norway averted his eyes. An uneasy laugh left his lips. Denmark had once told him he was awkward; was it that bad? The faces of the other Nordics and miscellaneous nations he knew flashed through his mind. He concluded that he needed to get out more.

As he rushed to push his bangs back with the clip, his wrist was met with the other nation's sharp nails digging into him.

"Don't say you talk to things so casually and then move on! Tell me more!"

Her voice was monotone, but the twinkle in her eyes told Norway she was serious. The nation flipped through his years of memories to try best to explain the invisible creatures he talks to. By the time he got the gist of it out of his mouth, he noticed her posture had changed; vanilla ice cream, not quite finished, was glued to her lips, her eyes glued on his face.

"Any questions?"

"You're a pagan!"

 _Nice_ _question_. "I _was_ a pagan."

"What hobbies do you have now?"

"Besides pillaging villages and burning my enemy's crops?"

Belarus pouted.

"I ski, sail. I do a little bit of magic, too."

"Do you?" Her eyes widened. She placed her hands on her knees and leaned in. "What kind?"

He knew he had her now. "I'm a level seven half-orc sorcerer. My friends and I get together twice a month and-"

"Oh my fucking _God_ you're obnoxious." With disgust painting her face, she rushed to her feet and readied herself to leave. In the heat of the moment, the Norwegian gripped his fingers around her thin wrist.

Their eyes met. She had a cute, unkempt way she styled her eyebrows that he hadn't noticed beforehand. He became hyper aware of his hand's placement. His fingers dropped and he gulped.

"I used to read runes."

"And then what, you learned how to read for real?"

Was it his anxiety that made him erupt in laughter? Was it the joke he had heard hundreds of times finally having an affect on him? He couldn't determine the cause. All he knew is that he somehow resorted to clasping his abdomen, laughing like a madman and stirring the ice cream in his stomach.

"You're not supposed to laugh." Belarus nudged his shoulder, but the cackling continued.

"I said stop laughing! It wasn't meant to be funny, you asshole!"

Seconds later, Norway returned to his cool composure. His tears were wiped away with an extra napkin.

"I'm, uh," he mumbled, coughing into his fist when his giggles came back. "I'm sorry about that."

The man scanned her features for a sign, but her lips remained thin. "I'll never laugh at your jokes again."

"So you believe in divination?" she asked. Impatience dripped from her tongue.

He nodded.

"Come with me."

* * *

The walk, if Norway could call it that, was quiet. Her pace was too fast for someone taking a leisurely stroll through a dimly lit park. He braced himself once he realized they were approaching a hotel, but to his surprise, they skipped a shoddy encounter in the alleyway next door and pushed through the revolving doors.

The hotel wasn't spectacular. In the air lingered a scent of stale popcorn, and even the receptionist looked like an old, outdated piece of furniture sitting behind the counter.

Escaping the rickety elevator, the duo approached the woman's suite down the hall. When they met the door, Norway jumped at the feeling of Belarus' slender hands feeling him up. She started at his shins, moving up to his torso and ending at his collared neck. He didn't dare touch her back, instead keeping his arms frozen at his side.

"What are you-"

"Body checking," she whispered. "For weapons. You're clear."

She swiftly unlocked the door and motioned for him to follow.

Cold was an understatement. A chill ran down Norway's spine upon walking into the room. If it wasn't for common courtesy, he would have covered himself with his blazer to fend off the freezing air attacking him.

"Do you always stand at the door when you visit people's dwellings? Sit down!" Belarus stoically gestured to a round table at the other end of the cramped room.

The temperature didn't improve after the man took a seat. He felt that the chill only grew the closer he moved into the room, though he held his tongue in case it offended his host. Norway had been inside more hotel rooms than he could count, but none of them had air conditioners this powerful.

The woman maneuvered through her nightstand, tossing various items out of it until she let out an, "oh!" He wrung his hands, massaging his wrist where the other had left a benign wound.

She took her place at the table, across from him. In her hands was a deck of cards, which she shuffled as she stared at the man. A flood of thoughts broke through Norway's mind.

"Here, shuffle these. Bend them and I'll cut your fingers off," Belarus threatened, handing the deck over to him.

Norway nodded mechanically, moving the cards with shaking hands. He parted his lips to speak, but she answered his question before he could ask it.

"Tarot cards. I'm going to read your fortune."

 _How did I end up here_? Was his next question, but he feared she knew the answer to that one, too. His shuffling skills were well under-played at that moment, his fingers fumbling with the delicate deck. Meeting the bare minimum of his own satisfaction, he placed the stack in the middle of the surface.

The woman yanked the first three cards from the top and placed them on the table face down. Norway's anticipation grew as she carefully flipped them over, revealing the bold colored imagery on their fronts.

"What does that upside down one mean?"

"It's not upside down, it's reversed," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. As if just remembering, she flipped the card right side up. "I don't read reversed cards."

"Why not?"

"They're bad fortune."

"From this angle they're all bad."

"Don't be dumb. Sit next to me." Belarus scooched to the left.

He did as he was told, making sure his chair didn't touch hers.

She held up the first card, disinterest crossing her face. He couldn't help but wonder how often she read the cards, or rather, if his supposed future bored her.

"This one is the Lovers. It represents two people bonding, knowing what they want, yada yada yada."

"So it's a good thing?"

"Sure."

"What about that one? It doesn't look too fortunate."

The second card depicted a crumbling tower with bodies falling out of it's structure. She swapped it with the first card.

"The Tower. Big changes are in your future."

"And that one? The one that was reversed?"

"Ace of Cups. More new beginnings. Tap into your creativity." She tapped the card against her head.

His eyes shifted from the card in her hand to the ones on the table.

"Is my future good or bad?"

The third card slammed back down.

"It's all about how you interperet them! What were your first thoughts when you saw them?"

Norway leaned his elbow next to the spread. "My first thought was, 'Where does she go to get her nails done? She should be a card holding model.'"

The woman let out a dramatic gagging noise.

"Get out." She shoved him out of his seat. He didn't dare acknowledge how dainty her attack was, instead opting to cross his arms and lean against a nearby wall.

"What are your plans for the rest of the night?"

The deck was whole once again. "Ghost hunting. This hotel is said to be haunted."

"Ah." _So that's why I'm so cold_.

"I would like to start it now, if you don't mind." She edged him towards the door.

The man finally had an excuse to put his blazer back on. Though warm on his body, the rest of him felt cool.

"I had a good time with you tonight." He debated wrapping her into a side hug, but held off. Would she feel as cold as a corpse?

"Thank you for the..." He gestured towards the cards neatly stacked on the table. "Interpretations."

She remained still. Her eyes glistened in the hotel room's dim lighting. He took it as his signal to get the hell out of the eerie rental, which lead him to turning around and opening the door behind him.

"Wait, before you go!"

"Hmm?"

"You owe me a rune reading, okay?"

"Deal." He gave her a shy smile and turned to leave. A breeze running across his face made him freeze in the doorway.

"Don't tell me you're a pussy who's afraid of leaving by yourself."

"Okay, I won't." Norway cocked his head and scanned the hallway. Strips of the outdated wallpaper clung onto the walls. "But I think it would be nice if you joined me to the elevator."


	4. Chapter 4

What started with a reluctant request for a further explanation of her tarot cards lead to him spending the next month glued to his phone. He'd awaken in the morning to find texts from her, ranging from a continuation of their occult conversations to sudden, snarky observations of the other nations. He dropped whatever he was doing when his screen lit up with her notifications. They had more in common than he had initially thought, it seemed.

When she announced her departure to sleep for the night, Norway would wish her a good night and settle into an armchair in his living room. He'd find something to do to keep himself occupied until he grew tired, and then he'd fall asleep knowing that he was going to get a text from Belarus. Sometimes he would scroll through the screenshots he saved from her dating profile. He'd recall her cold but smooth wrist and shudder. Her eyes were dull and unentertained in every picture, so he would trace along her pronounced lower lip and sharp jawline. He yearned to taste her lips-

No.

He couldn't let himself go that far with his imagination.

Norway wasn't the type of man to take advantage of his bachelor lifestyle. After centuries of bloodshed, home changes, and power struggles within himself and with others, he grew to appreciate his personal space. Still, the thought of sharing his home crossed his mind more often than he anticipated. Not that he'd want to give away his newfound freedom and privacy, but it _had_ been a while since he ventured outside of the Nordics and the few friends he had. The most recent dates he had been on were with the other nation. When he took the time to think about it, they were the _only_ dates he had in the past few centuries. It would be foolish to get his hopes up.

It was on one of these nights where his mind was too restless for petty acts when he noticed how the sound of his footsteps bounced off the walls.

He pushed in a chair while tidying his home. Stepping back to observe its symmetry with the table, he came close to scaring himself from the sound of his weight hitting the wooden floor. The fear of an intruder died down as soon as it began. The man was all alone.

As if on cue, Norway felt his back pocket vibrate. He pulled his phone from his body and answered the call coming from " _Annoying-Do Not Answer"_.

"Bro, how's it going?" Denmark's voice made his ears ring.

"It's midnight. Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I am!"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "What do you want?"

"Uh." A pause. "It's just been a while since I've heard from you. You okay?"

"Ah, sorry about that. I've been busy with some..." He thought about his texts with Belarus. "Things."

Was this what it was like to have a friend? Not to say the Nordics weren't his friends, but it seemed that most of them preferred to talk to other people outside of their little group. His brother had Hong Kong, Finland had Estonia and Hungary, and Denmark had Germany and the Netherlands. Everyone else seemed to acknowledge their freedom of choice with who to associate with, too. Befriending Belarus felt similar to lifting a weight off his chest; it had been a while since Norway opened himself up to new connections.

"What kind of things? Like talking to other, cooler Danish guys?"

"Don't tempt me," Norway joked, plopping himself onto his living room couch. He toyed with his lower lip while he waited for his friend to speak.

"We need to get together sometime! What are you doing this weekend?"

"Magic Club."

"Oh." The Norwegian didn't have to see his face to know what it expressed. No one understood his hobby. The Dane had made attempts at learning in the past, but they eventually reached the mutual agreement that it was impossible for him to grasp it. Norway found others who understood how it worked, but that didn't stop Denmark from teasing him.

Denmark continued. "What about next weekend? The five of us can get together and, I don't know, do _something_! I miss you, Bro."

"Next weekend?" he asked himself mindlessly, ignoring the endearment he was given. Norway ran his finger along the calendar in his phone. Seeing that he was free, he returned the device to his ear and gave the other man a confirmation.

"Sweet! We'll get wasted and-"

"Goodnight." The Norwegian ended the call and yawned. He stretched as he rose to his feet, and headed in the direction of his bedroom.

* * *

Norway poured himself a second glass of whiskey while they waited for the Dungeon Master to return from upstairs.

He didn't mind playing at night. It wasn't like there was an option _not_ to; they had to compromise with Romania, who insisted his vampire instincts forced him to stay awake past midnight. Norway wasn't quite sure why he and England agreed to deal with it, but over time the emotional investment in their fantasy arc outweighed their need for sleep. He considered asking the self-proclaimed vampire about the last time he saw a doctor, but the man's strange behavior _did_ supply him with numerous inside jokes.

The Englishman unfolded the playing mat and lied it across the table in which they were seated. They had collectively agreed that it wouldn't make sense to host their roleplay somewhere modern, so the group settled on England's dark, dingy basement. "Hey Norway, I've been meaning to ask you-why an orc?"

"Is there something wrong with them?"

"They're kind of ugly, don't you think?" Romania piped in as he struggled to choose a die from his satchel.

The Nordic unclipped the cross from his wavy hair, letting the locks fall in his eyes. "Would you like me to call my trolls and see what they think?"

"There's no need for that," England assured, taking a seat across from the man. " _I_ think your orc makes up for his looks quite well with his powerful sorcery abilities, isn't that right, Romania?"

The latter man nodded excitedly. The bushy browed host stirred his drink. "So, anything new with you two?"

Norway blamed his words on the whiskey leaking from his tongue. "I went on a date," he blurted out.

The other nations grew closer to the center of the table, their eyes eager with curiosity.

"Nor you devil~"

"A date? I'd never know you were putting yourself out there like that."

He threw up his hands in defense, a blush creeping into his cheeks. "It's not like that. We've only seen each other a couple times."

England tilted back in his chair, his arms hanging over the back. The whiskey seemed to have gotten to him, too. "Don't leave us in suspense. Tell us what she's like!"

Their eyes bled into him.

"Well, uh-"

 _Creak._ His younger brother turned the doorknob to the basement and pushed the antique door open.

"I'll tell you later." Obviously disappointed, the two nations shuffled in their seats. Iceland cautiously made his way to the head of the table, a leather notebook under his arm.

"Why do I have to join you guys?"

Norway looked his brother up and down while the other fumbled with his notes. His hair was in need of a trim, and his sweater looked as if it grew on him. When was the last time he caught his reflection in a mirror?

The man spoke as soon as the teen's eyes met him. "I thought you wanted to be here?"

The teenager danced in his seat.

"We needed a Dungeon Master. You're perfect for the role," England complimented, not glancing up from his cheap, plastic wand.

Romania's eyes lit up. "Yeah, plus you're really good at drawing! Those character sheets you made up were amazing!"

Iceland's pale cheeks glowed a fluorescent pink. Earlier in their quest, he had brought a folder of watercolor drawings to one of their meetings. The teenager had created beautiful character sheets for the trio, with vibrant colors and various body types.

" _Don't look at me like that,_ " he had snapped. " _Hong Kong helped me, okay?_ "

"It's not like I have anything better to do."

"Which is why you're here."

Iceland sighed and flipped to the next empty page. "Let's see, where did we stop last time?"

* * *

There was no way Norway was going to talk about Belarus.

The trio gathered in England's kitchen to recollect themselves. Their journey was fierce and long, and they didn't think they would make it out alive. The late morning sun that greeted them through the windows upstairs was their only solace.

"You guys are so immature. It's just a game," Iceland mumbled with a yawn.

"But it felt so real! When the dragon flew right over our heads-"

"-Stop shouting, Romania!" England sipped tea from his ceramic mug.

"I wish we could continue this session, but it's already..." The Englishman checked his watch. "Nine thirty."

 _'Nine thirty_?' Norway confirmed the time on his phone. He eyed a notification from Belarus and promptly swiped it away before someone glanced over his shoulder. He mentally prayed that the two other men would forget about their prior conversation. If they were as fatigued as he was, it wouldn't even cross their minds. Before he could replace the empty space in his pocket, his phone vibrated in his hand.

 _Tiny Hat: Sooooooo is she one of us or?_

 _'Fuck_.' _The_ Norwegian lifted his eyes from the screen. He hesitantly locked them with Romania's, who in return gave him a smirk.

 _Butter God: Doesn't matter._

 _Tiny Hat: When are we meeting her?_

 _Tiny Hat: C'mon, what is she like?_

 _Tiny Hat: Is she enchanting?_

 _Tiny Hat: Can she join our guild?_

"Hey, can you two stop blowing up my phone?" Iceland asked, opening his screen. Before Norway could stop him, he watched as his younger brother's expression turned from annoyed to curious. The man crossed his arms and braced himself for the reaction.

His brother puckered his lips and kept his gaze on the message. "You uh, have a girlfriend?"

"Not exactly," the Norwegian replied, remaining on his defense. "She's just someone I've been on a couple dates with."

"Oh."

The air in the room shifted. A lingering, awkward silence filled the space. Romania gave Norway an apologetic look while England furrowed his brows at both of them.

 _Tiny Hat: Whoopsie! I forgot he was in the group chat_

 _Dungeon Master: You're still in the wrong chat_

 _Tiny Hat: FUCK_

Norway let out a nervous chuckle. He turned to face his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You wouldn't get jealous if I started dating someone, would you?"

"Why would I? I mean, it would be weird to see, but I wouldn't care." Iceland inched away from his light grasp.

"Why weird?" The Norwegian's stomach tightened. He watched as the other two men exchanged a look.

"We'll talk about this later," the elder said, springing forward from the counter he was resting against. "Besides, we should go drop off the rental car soon."

* * *

"That was quite the session, wasn't it?"

Neither of the Nordics dared to look at each other during the ride to the airport. Besides the gentle hum of the radio station playing between them, the ride remained muted. Romania had given him a thousand apologies before they left. The man assured him he was fine, but the damage had already been done. The last sight the brothers saw was England giving the other a lecture on using his phone at the table.

"What's on your mind?" he asked stoically. Dancing around the topic at hand wasn't going to work.

"Nothing," Iceland stated, staring out the passenger side window.

"You know I know when you're lying."

Another moment of silence passed.

"Why are you hiding it?"

Before Norway could think of a response, the teenager twisted his body to face him. "Brothers don't keep things from each other," he pronounced, his voice cracking at the end.

"You'll understand when you're..." Norway picked through his brain to find something that wasn't, ' _When you're older_ '. "When you enter the dating world."

He spotted his brother's pale hands rubbing the blush out of his cheeks. "I don't know, I just don't see you as the dating type."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah.

Then, in a much quieter tone, Iceland audibly mumbled, "It's always just been the five of us..."

He was right. Norway wasn't about to deny that the five of them had known each other for centuries. In a sense, getting away from his tight-knit group felt like a deep, renewing breath. He couldn't solely depend on them for his happiness. Maybe Belarus was right in predicting a different horizon for him.

Iceland frantically interrupted his daydream. "If you got a girlfriend, would you leave the Nordics?"

The man tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He inhaled, then exhaled. "No. Of course not."

"You promise?"

"I promise." He gave his brother a thin lipped smile, making the latter relax into his seat. The car turned off the highway. Norway leaned forward and squinted at the signs along the side of the road until he found the one directing him to the rental car center. Neither nation spoke to each other until it came time to part ways in the airport.

"Try not to worry about it."

"I'm not worried!"

A robotic voice announced boarding for the next flight to Reykjavik.

"Text me when you get home." Norway readied himself to turn around and find a coffee stand, but he stopped himself short. Before Iceland could react, the man licked his hands and fussed with his brother's hair. The younger nation held his arms up in protest until the other announced when he was done.

"Okay, now you can go."

Iceland pulled the handles of his backpack towards his chest and mumbled something under his breath. When his lanky body disappeared from his sight, the Norwegian opened his phone to read Belarus' text.


End file.
